


Forget

by EpochDaw



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Other, emotional breakdown, negative emotions, onesided feelings, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:42:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpochDaw/pseuds/EpochDaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He vaguely remembers hot afternoons with the warm sun on his back, watching as older kids walked along with their Connections, a glow hanging in the air that glued his gaze on them until they were out of sight. </p><p>“To be Connected is to be accepted for who you are.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget

Hinata’s early childhood memories are a blur of rich green grass and blue skies, of gentle breezes and running water, bare feet colliding with gray cement and soft soil. Memories of breathing in the sweet smell of cherry blossoms in the spring, and the fresh bitter air of winter. He vaguely remembers hot afternoons with the warm sun on his back, watching as older kids walked along with their Connections, a glow hanging in the air that glued his gaze on them until they were out of sight.

_“To be Connected is to be accepted for who you are.”_

Hinata remembers silver hair and bright eyes, a smiling face staring down at him. The image is just as hazed as the rest of his childhood, but the words spoken to him are clear as the small stream of water in his backyard. He remembers it well throughout elementary school. But as he enters middle school the memory leaves Hinata feeling empty, as though he’s missing something ( _someone_ ), and makes his head pound with questions that can’t be answered. He decides not to dwell on it during his second year, after seeing silver hair in a crowd of high-schoolers. 

His third year goes by without problems. He watches as classmates and friends start to Connect with one another, but he doesn’t feel the need to do the same. He feels no need for romance, no need for a partner. Hinata decides that green grass and falling leaves are much better than Connections that year, and his mind does not change until his first year of highschool.

He’s fifteen when the memory resurfaces. It’s the first day of his first year of high school and the words wash over him like a wave. Hinata feels himself sinking in bright eyes, of falling into the warm smile of Sugawara Koushi. He feels fear for the first time because he _remembers_. He remembers falling in love, of watching silver locks of hair float in the wind. He remembers crying at the end of summer, watching as those bright eyes turned away from him.

Sugawara Koushi is Hinata’s Connection, but Hinata is not Sugawara Koushi’s.

Hinata never knew that Connections could be one sided, and he wishes that he never did. He sobs alone in his room that night, and his throat constricts and his chest feels crushed. His head is filled of _him_ , and it hurts so much that he decides to forget.

“Forget, forget, forget, forget,” he whispers, eyes dark and hollow. His hands grips his orange hair, elbows resting painfully on his knees. His gaze is pointed at the floor, but instead of glossy wood he sees brown eyes. “Forget, forget, _forget.”_

Hinata’s sight goes blurry, and he digs the palms of his hands into his eyes, clenching his teeth together tightly. His voice is stuck in his throat, and it builds up and up and up. His ears echo with a painful cry that he doesn’t realize is his own until his throat burns and no sound comes from his mouth. His tears slid down his face, and his shoulders bounce as silent sobs rake through his body.

“ _Please just let me forget,_ ” he croaks out, curling on his bed and scratching at his head. “Please, please, please, _please let me forget.”_

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up waaaayyyy different from my original plan. 
> 
> Um, so, a "Connection" is basically a Soul-Mate. Yeah. 
> 
> Yeah.


End file.
